Letters from my Son
by happilyinsane13
Summary: Draco receives letters from Scorpius during his stay at Hogwarts. What he doesn't expect is having constant panic attacks at his sons's life. Gryffindor, Albus Potter... Karma is against him. And Astoria is enjoying every minute of it.
1. Karma's a Bitch

The sun was shining in the autumn sky, the light bouncing off the glistening windows of the Malfoy Mansion. Draco Malfoy, along with his wife Astoria, had left the ancient Malfoy Manor twelve years ago. Draco had told Astoria it was so they could have a home to themselves, instead of sharing it with his parents who would surely, "Meddle in our business."

Astoria knew the truth, however, that Draco wanted to escape the memories that flooded that house with despair. The days of the War had made that Manor no longer a home for him, but a place where the hisses of snakes and screams of the tortured echoed in his ears as he walked down the dimly lit hallways.

With the newly growing baby in her stomach, at the time, it was the catalyst to his decision to move to a Mansion in a country environment. Open hills with the sun forever lighting the rooms he had filled with wide and tall windows. The colors inside were still variations of silver and green, however Astoria had added a feminine touch wherever she could. Colors of blue, purple, even the occasional yellow when the season called for it, could be seen in the household. As long as there wasn't red and gold Draco was fine with it.

It has been twelve years since the move in, and their only child, Scorpius, had left for Hogwarts two weeks ago. Draco was in a panic because he had not yet received a letter from his precious son.

Astoria shook her head and sighed as she watched her husband pace in his study, the sunlight that made his receding blonde hair shine was a stark contrast to the contorted look on his face.

"Darling," she pleaded. "Sit down before you wear yourself out."

Draco swiveled on his heel, his black robes swishing behind him. "He hasn't written us," he said, worry etched in his face. "Why hasn't he written us?"

Draco went back to his pacing and Astoria tried to hide a smirk. She knew why her little Scorpius wasn't writing his dear father. For he had written his mother, the night he had arrived at Hogwarts and had forbidden his her to tell his father until he worked up the courage to tell him on his own. Astoria hoped it would be soon, because she was really starting to worry that Draco was going to wear a hole in the carpet.

"He could just be busy with the beginning of school," Astoria tried to reason.

Draco, however, wasn't listening. Instead he was murmuring to himself; Ridiculous things such as, "Could he have fallen out of the boat on his way to the castle? Has the giant squid eaten him?" and "It's those damn Hippogriff's, I know it is! My poor sons' been eaten!"

Before Astoria could give into the temptation to wack her husband upside the head, a large eagle owl flew through one of the open windows and let a letter fall gracefully on Draco's head.

"Well, there you go," Astoria drawled.

Draco grumbled and grabbed the envelope off his head, opening it with inhuman speed. Glancing at the first line he looked confused. "It just says 'Dear Dad…', why is that?"

Astoria then proceeded to try and slink out of the room. "Oh would you look at the time!" she exclaimed. "I promised a couple of friends I'd meet them for a cup of coffee! Goodbye darling! Don't have a cardiac arrest!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Draco yelled as his wife simply apparated away.

With a sinking feeling Draco glanced at the letter and began to read.

_Dear Dad, _

_ I'm sure you've been eagerly awaiting my letter. I'm sorry it took so long to write you. You see, something very unexpected happened and I've been trying to gather up the courage to tell you. _

Draco stopped there and immediately flew into a panic. Did his son get someone pregnant? He was only eleven! The only letters that started like this meant that his son had either gotten someone pregnant, or was gay. This is so wrong!

_You see dad, I know how much you wanted me to be in Slytherin. To carry on the family tradition and all that. The problem is, I was sorted into Gryffindor. _

Draco stopped again to keep himself from fainting. What had happened? His son had been sorted into Gryffindor? What kind of alternate universe had he been transported into? Draco wracked his brain about what could have gone wrong with his son. Surely it wasn't his upbringing. Sure, maybe he had brought up his son with a little more familial love than he had been, and not as much talk about mudbloods and the Dark Lord. He had however thought he had properly instilled a sense of superiority within the young boy, because that's what a Malfoy was. Superior.

He thought again and could only think that it was Astoria's doing. She was too kind-hearted, too soft. Sure he loved her to death, and she was a definite pureblood, as well as having been a Slytherin when she was in school. It must have been someone in her family however, some Ravenclaw or – Heaven forbid – Hufflepuff that blasted this curse upon them. That's why she had scurried off, because she knew the truth! The only thing worse would be… No, fate wouldn't be so cruel.

_It was a bit rough at first, since the Malfoy name isn't so revered in the eyes of the other houses, you know? But I made a really good friend! He's really nice to me, and encouraged me too write this letter to you. He said that his dad had told him that even if he was put in Slytherin (He's in Gryffindor with me though) his dad would still love him. And not disown him… So he said surely you would be as understanding._

Draco frowned a bit. Well, at least he had made a friend. As much as he was appalled by the fact his son was in the stupidest of Houses, maybe having a Malfoy in Gryffindor would help the young Wizarding community see they had changed.

_His name is Albus Potter, and I think we'll be best mates! Write to you soon! _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Scorpius _

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?" Malfoy screamed.

Collapsing onto to the floor, (He didn't have the strength to steer himself to the sofa) he cursed Karma for all he was worth. Why did it hate him so? This was for all the times he had made fun of Potter and his whole Death Eater stunt wasn't it? Oh dear life, take him now.

Draco threw the letter into the air and pulled out his wand so he could set it ablaze, but before he could it landed on his face, and he read the last, fatal lines.

_P.S. He introduced me to his cousin Rose Weasley! I really like her too, dad. We're going to the Professor Hagrid's this weekend for tea! _

"Damnit! Dragon shit!"

On the patio of 'Bewitching Coffee' Astoria winced as she was about to lift her pumpkin pasty to her mouth. She could've sworn she had heard her husband cursing. Daintily placing her pastry down on her plate, a little wind catching her thick brown hair she turned to her two friends, grinning.

"Do you know how your husbands took the news?"

Hermione laughed merrily while Ginny just rolled her eyes. The two had aged gracefully, and their roles as mother's and wives had not changed them a bit.

"I ran out before he got to the best bit," Hermione giggled. "But knowing Ron, he had a yelling fit. Just as I was leaving his ears were turning purple. No doubt he'll send a Howler."

"To Rose?" Astoria asked, surprised.

"Rosie? Of course not!" Hermione waved her hand dismissively. "To Scorpius I'm afraid. Your poor boy won't walk away from this without his ears bleeding."

She looked at Astoria apologetically. Astoria merely laughed.

"And you, Ginny?"

Ginny's fiery red hair bounced as she shook her head.

"Harry did better than my brother," she admitted. "However, I can't say he wasn't shocked. "

"Well," Astoria said, raising her cup of coffee as if holding a toast. "To a surely eventful year! I just can't wait to see our husband's roll around in agony. It will surely liven up the house!"

"Here here!" They exclaimed, clinking their cups together, their giggles and banter making them look as if they were schoolgirls again.


	2. Christmas Invite

The Christmas holidays were fast approaching, and Astoria was ecstatic. The holidays meant her son, Scorpius, was coming home and she couldn't wait to talk to her boy. Sunlight, filtered by the grey clouds that hung in the sky, streamed into the living room. The Christmas tree was currently being decorated by several house elves and Astoria herself. Just as she was levitating a particularly delicate crystal ornament she heard a hideous scream.

"THERE IS NO WAY I'M LETTING POTTER'S AND WEASELS INTO MY HOUSE!"

This shocked Astoria so much that she lost all concentration and the ornament fell to the ground and broke with a crash. She huffed and puffed, glaring fiercely at her husband when he marched into the room.

"Look what you did!" she demanded, pointing at the shards littering the hardwood floor.

Usually scolding Draco worked, as she surely held the key to his heart and will, but Draco was so furious he hardly paid any heed to her reprimand. He simply rolled his eyes, drew out his wand and said, "Reparo!"

The ornament became good as new. Astoria sighed, clearly disappointed she wouldn't have the chance to hold something over his head for the rest of the day. Instead she finished her job, levitating the ornament to its proper place, then glided over to her husband, where they both sat down on the dark green loveseat.

"What's the matter now darling? Another dastardly letter from our wayward son?" she asked, although Draco couldn't miss the sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"Very funny," Draco drawled. "But, yes, he's done it again. How is this boy my son?"

"It's called procreation, dear," Astoria said. "Do we need to go over the birds and the bees?"

Draco glared daggers at her, pointing a finger at her, obviously hoping he was being threatening.

"Don't go trying to change the subject," he snapped. "I know you little housewives, you're all in cahoots!"

"Now really dear," Astoria exclaimed, holding a hand close to over her heart. "That's a horrible accusation to make!"

"Oh, really? So you're not…"

"Hermione works for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she's not a housewife."

Draco groaned pathetically, putting his head in his hands in despair. Astoria giggled, she really did have fun annoying her husband. However, she decided it was time to get serious.

"Really Draco, what is the matter? What did Scorpius say?" she asked, in the most soothing voice she could muster without bursting into a fit of laughter.

Draco mumbled something incoherent.

"What?"

Draco mumbled again.

"Draco, I can't hear you."

"HE WANTS THE POTTER BOY AND THE WEASEL GIRL OVER FOR DINNER!" he exclaimed.

Draco waited with baited breath for his wife's reply.

"That's all?" she asked, looking at him as if he had just been transfigured into a flobberworm.

"What do you mean that's all?" Draco said, indignation clearly in his tone. "A Potter and a Weasley in the Malfoy house? I accepted he was in Gryffindor, I came to terms his best friends were those… those two, under the impression that I would never have to meet them!"

"Draco," Astoria sighed, patting his head as if he were a small child. "You didn't accept it, you nearly had a heart attack and the first thing you did was write a letter to the Headmaster to make sure the Sorting Hat was fired, and you can't fire the sorting hat. Honestly, you can't expect to never meet those kids either. They're his best friends."

She looked into her husbands' icy blue-gray eyes and delivered the final blow. "And you owe Harry Potter and Ron Weasley to give their children a chance, whether you like it or not."

Draco stiffened and had suddenly wished he had never told Astoria in the first place, because she was right. He did owe it to Potter and Weasley, because they had saved his life during the War time. Not only that, but Potter had never convicted the Malfoy family of their crimes even when, Draco knew, they partially deserved it.

Astoria smiled as Draco sulked. She hopped up from her place beside him and said, "Well, now that that's settled, I'm going to go Christmas shopping!" Before Draco had a chance to look up at her she had vanished. Draco heaved a great sigh, and pulled out the crumpled letter from his pocket to read for the thousandth time.

_Dear Dad, _

_ I hope you and Mum are well. My first year has been exciting so far. I really enjoy Defense Against the Dark Arts and our flying lessons best. We should play a game of quidditch when I get back for the holidays. _

Draco's lips twitched to form a half-smile.

_I can't wait until I can take Care of Magical Creatures though! Then Albus, Rose and me can see Hagrid everyday! Albus said we might be able to ride a Hippogriff! _

Draco's partial smile fell at these words, and he frowned. Oh. Hell. No. His son was not riding on one of those great, ugly beasts. What was that oaf, Hagrid, teaching his son?

_Albus's brother, James, said dragons could eat us though. That isn't true is it? _

Draco now made it a mission to kill James Potter.

_Something's been bothering me… I honestly don't know if I should tell you this. Some Slytherin bloke, named Goyle pushed me and called me a 'Bloodtraitor'. I know you wanted me to be in Slytherin, dad, but I don't think I like some of them. _

This part of the letter made Draco upset. He rubbed his temple with his free hand. He had been afraid of this. When he had gotten over the simple fact of "Oh Merlin my son's in bloody Gryffindor!" he knew that the pure-blood families, especially those who most resented the fall of the Dark Lord, would bully his son. He couldn't imagine how much worse it would get as he got older.

_Besides all of that, it's pretty uneventful. By the way, can Albus and Rose come over for dinner during break ? Thanks! _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Scorpius _

Draco scowled at the last scribble; the obvious clump of words that Scorpius had been hoping would go simply unnoticed. Draco noticed anything concerning the Potter's and Weasley's however, and this was no exception. He laid back and closed his eyes. Surely his son could be satisfied with some other girl or boy his age? Like Blaise's son, or even Pansy's?

Draco knew that he was wrong though. As he opened his eyes, he looked out the window as snow began to fall. For his son's sake, shouldn't he give them a chance? If not their father's, than their children. After all, it was a miracle his son was still alive. It must have taken a great deal of effort and forgiveness on Ron Wealey's part to let Scorpius within fifty feet of his little girl.

"Kassy," Draco called. One of the house elves, dressed in a prim, spotless white linen came to his aide. "Yes, Master Malfoy?"

"Start the planning for a dinner, probably on the 23rd," he said. "Scorpius's friends are coming."

Meanwhile, at the Burrow, Ron Weasley had just about choked on his cucumber sandwhich.

"My daughter at the MALFOY'S?" he screeched.

As he began to rant and rave, Hermione just rolled her eyes. "This might take awhile." She murmured to Crookshanks, the old cat purring in her arms.


	3. Some Things Never Change

What was the old saying? 'The three-headed dog days are over?'

Currently, in Draco Malfoy's life, that was a load of dragon shit.

Early Christmas sinner with his son's two best friends had been an altogether interesting affair. The Potter boy, Albus, had arrived at 6 O'clock on the dot. Astoria had greeted him with a great flourish of warmth and excitement; Scorpius could barely contain himself, while Draco had stood there like a wooden plank. After a few moments where Albus had been distracted by his wife and son, everyone turned expectantly to Draco.

Draco studied the scrawny boy, still covered with a dusting of ash from flooing into their living room. He was the exact image of his father from when they were in school. Untidy dark hair, round glasses, and vivid emerald eyes that sparkled with innocence. The only thing missing was the lightning shaped scar, and Draco was thankful for it. It was already hard enough as it is to accept the boy through letters. Meeting him in person, the less he looked like his father, the better.

Forcing his hand out, he grunted a,

"Mr. Malfoy."

Albus looked at his hand in curiosity for a split-second then shook it. Although both let go rather quickly, Draco noticed that Albus did not seem to harbor any grudge against him, or fear for that matter. It looked like his father hadn't informed him in on the details of their childhood.

The Weasley-Granger hybrid however was fifteen minutes late when she came stumbling out of the floo. Coughing ash and shaking her bushy brown hair, she looked up and grinned.

"I'm very sorry for being late, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy," she said. "My dad kept changing his mind on whether or not he wanted me to go. Mum finally just threatened to hex him if he didn't let me."

Draco had originally been prepared to emit a snide comment on her tardiness, but after hearing her excuse he felt it was appropriate not to say anything, and also found a new, grudging respect for the muggle-born who had tormented him at Hogwarts.

Or, he remembered bitterly, he had tormented.

As Astoria once again began fussing over Scorpius's friends, he caught a glimpse of young Rose. Her hair was a bushy and untamed as her mother's had been, but her nose was dusted softly with light colored freckles, and her eyes were a bright, shockingly clear blue resembling that of her father. By her broad grin, she was the perfect mix of the two. He only hoped she had found a balance between being smart, and when to keep her trap shut.

Dinner proceeded with a great meal being passed out in the dining room where the five of them sat at a rounded oak table, quite the contrast to the long, painfully-distanced table back at Malfoy Manor. The minute Albus saw one of the house-elves he heaved a sigh.

Turning to Scorpius he said, "Rosie's not going to like this."

It was then, the minute Draco saw Rose's eyes light with a fire the minute the house-elf set the food in front of her, he remembered her own mother's fight for elf rights. This would not bode well if her mother had taught her these morals.

"Are they paid?"

Draco and Astoria looked up to meet Rose's glare that was uncommonly fierce for an eleven year old.

"Because I'm not eating if this was made from slave labor."

Astoria opened her mouth to speak, but Draco beat her to it.

"They're given vacations, however, Astoria has not convinced them to accept pay yet," Draco drawled, taking a sip of the French onion soup. "Your mother has quite the influence on Astoria, don't worry. My wife won't quit until they get their own broomsticks."

Rose seemed satisfied with this answer, and began to gobble up her own soup. Astoria beamed at her husband, infinitely proud of him. Draco just shook his head and watched as Scorpius, Rose, and Albus were all deep in conversation about quidditch, Hagrid, O.W.L.S ("That's four years away, Rosie!" "You can never be too prepared!"), and why there was a whomping willow.

Dinner passed like this, with the children and Astoria chatting away while Draco just watched his son. He had wanted to deny the reality of all of this so badly. His House, his friends, Scorpius's stark contrast from everything Draco ever was. But now that he saw it in front of him, he knew he could no longer deny it. Scorpius was happy, and nothing Draco ever would have wanted for him before would have done that. Draco decided that he had to be happy for his son too, that's what a father was supposed to be like wasn't it?

He wouldn't know. He didn't always have the best example growing up.

The Gryffindor posters now covering his son's room, his red and gold scarves, his laughing face, the complete lack of prejudice and expectations in his face… All of it pointed to Scorpius's happiness.

When it was getting late and it was time for Albus and Rose to go, Draco said something he never thought he would've said before.

"Come again some time soon."

When the two had grinned and left Astoria had kissed him, and Scorpius had hugged him around his middle and said, "Thank you."

"My darling!" Astoria called through the hallway, watching as Draco's back stood rigid when he was called, and slowly he turned to face her. With one, golden eyebrow raised he looked at her inquisitively.

"Yes?"

"A letter from our wayward son," she smirked with barely conceived amusement as her husband all but ran to her side and grabbed the letter she had grasped in her right hand.

Draco ripped open the envelope and hungrily let his eyes feast on the messy scrawl that decorated the parchment. Scorpius had not been back since Christmas break, and was due home for the summer in two weeks. Still, Draco could hardly anticipate news from his only child.

_Dear Dad, _

_I was hoping I would not have to write this letter to you, as honestly the thought of you having a heart attack does not appeal to me. _

Draco's eyes widened. What had happened to his son? Had he hexed someone into next week? (Oliver Wood's son would be acceptable). Kill a Hufflepuff? Get eaten by a dragon? … Oh wait, that doesn't work…

_I really wasn't going to write this, but you were going to be informed soon enough. Really soon, by the school in fact. In the end, Rose made me do it. She said if she and Albus had to write letters to their parents, I better do it or she'll jinx me and make little birds attack me. Said something about a trick her mom uses with her dad. _

Draco snorted. He had no doubt that Granger-Weasley would definitely jinx her rather rash husband to make him see anything close to sense.

_Well, Albus, Rose, and I were exploring Hogwarts… at night. We were just curious about the rumours about Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Myrtle's supposed to be really whiny, but there's a game about throwing a book through her head. But also, they say there's something else haunting it. Screams and a bloodstain that won't come off the floor. _

Draco got chills up his spine, the memories he had worked so hard to close off flooding back into his minds eye. Myrtle's comfort, Potter's confrontation, the duel, the searing pain in his chest, the blood… all the blood. Staining the marble floor and permeating the water that surrounded his body. Unconsciously he raised a hand to lightly run across his chest, where the curse scar still remained underneath his clothes.

_A bit creepy if you ask me. But the stain is really there. Eery. The three of us hated it. Myrtle took one look at us and before we could even try to throw a book, she looked like she had seen a ghost and went down the toilet! Haha. Kind of funny… I've tried to distract you too long. Well, Albus were looking around, and he found some random box lying around. I told him to open it, but instead, the floor opened up!_

Draco did not like where this was going. He just really hope they didn't go in…

_So naturally we jumped in. _

Well shit…

_How were we supposed to know we had opened the Chamber of Secrets?_

Draco read the last line again and again. How was that possible? Not only had his son and his friends entered the bathroom, which was home to one of his, and he was sure Potter's, worst memories, but opened the bloody Chamber of Secrets… where if he wasn't mistaken, a dead Basilisk was now rotting. Yet Draco knew the only way to do it was to be a Parselmouth, and his son said 'open'. There had been no known history of any parsletongue's in his family. It also seemed his friends did not even notice it, which would mean they understood him… meaning they did not seem the significance.

"Draco?"

Draco turned to see his wife staring at him with wide, frightened eyes. He had not realized she had been reading over his shoulder. They thought that all the adventure they had experienced at Hogwarts was over…

"Malfoy!"

Draco turned to see a very purple Ron Weasley and a grave looking Harry Potter standing in front of his fireplace and covered in soot.

Apparently, none of it was over.


	4. The Past Behind Us

"Why on earth," Ron roared, advancing dangerously upon Malfoy, his soot covered face slightly frightening, "Is my daughter and my nephew speaking Parseltongue? With your son? Opening the damn Chamber of Secrets?"

"Ron, calm down," Harry said, grasping his friend's arm tightly.

For some reason Draco couldn't explain, something in him from his school days erupted inside him and snapped.

"How should I know, Weasley?" Draco drawled. "But its more suspicious that your children are speaking it isn't it? Got a dark side your not sharing with us?"

Ron's ears were turning purple.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, you're not in school anymore!" Astoria snapped.

Draco's ever-growing sense of hatred died down immediately, rightly chastened by his wife. There was, however, a bubbling feeling of dislike still broiling underneath his skin.

"I don't know where our son could have gotten his heritage as a Parselmouth," Astoria said, more calmly than before – but barely. "All Pure-Blood families are related in some way, so we must have inherited it through our union. The talent is known to skip generations until it comes upon a particularly strong wizard."

Draco wanted to smirk, but held it in. These days, being a Parselmouth was nothing to be proud of.

"That doesn't explain us though," Harry said, puzzled.

"We're all related, remember Potter?" Draco said, a little haughtily. "I know Weasley, unfortunately, is closely related to me through the Black's. You are a Parselmouth though, aren't you?"

"No," Ron said, looking around wildly at Harry. "It disappeared once Voldemort was destroyed!"

Harry nodded his head, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"When Voldemort's soul inside my body was destroyed, I lost all ability to speak with snakes after that."

"And, I can't believe I'm saying this, but no offense to Granger… I mean, your wife, Weasley, is a Muggle-born would weaken the magical gene that allows for the heritage of a Parselmouth,"

Ron glared a little but said, surprisingly, "No offense taken since I think that's the first time you haven't called her a Mud-Blood."

There was an awkward silence for a bit as the party pondered this over.

"Wait… Hermione is an extremely capable witch. Besides, most Muggle-borns are descended from Wizards. Its just the magic skipped over many generations," Astoria said, realization dawning on her face. "Her ancestor could've had a relation to a Parselmouth!"

"Why didn't Hermione have the ability then?" Ron asked.

"It probably skipped her, but her union with you, a Pure-Blood, probably made the magic for heritage stronger for your children!" Harry said.

"And out of all of them, it chose Rose." Draco concluded.

"And Albus?" Ron asked.

"Harry's powerful blood, being a Potter, and his marriage with Ginny must have also awakened the trait."

"Damn it all," Harry sighed, putting his face in his hands. "And they opened the Chamber of Secrets… saw what was down there… I thought this was all behind us. I wanted Albus to live a normal life."

Astoria glanced at Harry, pity alight in her gaze.

"Nothing can ever be normal in the Wizarding World, Harry."

"How do we explain it all to them? We can't keep them in the dark forever about what happened in school." Ron pointed out.

"And what should we tell them Weasley?" Draco exclaimed, throwing his pale hands into the air. "By the way, children, your parents opened the Chamber of Secrets. Albus, Rose, your parents nearly died every year trying to defeat the Dark Lord. Scorpius, your father nearly died and killed hundreds of others to serve that great, evil, git! Oh yes, we'll tell them that!"

Harry and Ron looked up at Draco in what could only be conveyed as shock. They had never heard from his own lips a word of remorse for the crimes he had committed during The War. Harry felt the smallest, and strangest bit of compassion. It grew as he witnessed the emotions of self-loathing and disgust flash across Draco's face. Astoria put a comforting arm on her husband's shoulder.

"You know, Malfoy," Harry said, a little uncertainly. "You didn't really have a choice and… I don't think you were truly a Deatheater… You didn't have the heart for it. When Hermione was… When she was being…" Harry couldn't finish.

Both Harry and Draco looked over at Ron, and it was like watching Ron see the while scene right in front of his eyes again. The fear, the pain, and the never-ending sense of sorrow were stuck on his face. Harry's emerald eyes met Draco's ice blue-grey one's and he finished.

"You didn't have the heart to hurt her… I never forgot that."

There was another silence, this one was just as heavy as the last, but not as awkward. Draco was glad he had moved into this new mansion all of a sudden. If they were in the Manor, he knew the memory of Hermione's screams would be even harder to relive.

Harry straightened and said, "We'll inform our children when the time is right. But if I know anything, we can't wait too long, or they'll never forgive us."

Draco and Astoria nodded. Ron just shrugged. When both made a move to say goodbye and floo back home Ron dared to glance out of the nearby window. He froze, his face possessing a look of the utmost horror.

"Malfoy, where the hell do you live?"

"On the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole. Why?"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Ron screamed.

Astoria and Harry looked at each other and started to laugh.

"It looks like we won't have to floo anymore," Harry said between his fits of laughter. "It's a bit late but, welcome to the neighborhood Malfoy."

Leaving Malfoy looking as if the world was presently ending, Harry dragged an absolutely distraught Ron over to the fireplace, and flooed away.

When Ron and Harry arrived at The Burrow all was quite. In the darkness, Ron whispered,

"But Harry, he didn't do anything either… I don't know if I can forgive him for that."

Harry looked at his best friend sadly.

"I know it's hard," Harry said. "But I think he tried. He knew it was me, even with the jinx on me. He didn't want us to die."

"How do you know?"

"With Malfoy, its all about the eyes. He felt the same way we did back then."

"And how was that?"

"Scared."


	5. Change of Scenery

It was only two weeks into summer vacation and already Draco's head was spinning. His only child, Scorpius, had not stopped badgering him since his return home from Hogwarts. After the misleading hugs, declarations of love, stories and so forth, Scorpius had uttered a sentence that Draco knew would never end well.

"Dad… You're the best dad in the whole wide world!"

Draco knew then and there if he did not start running away now, and fast, he was infinitely screwed. Yet, like the "lump of fluffy pygmy puff" that Astoria said he was, deep, deep, deep inside his heart he replied with an unknowing grin,

"What do you want, son?"

"Can we go to a picnic at Rose and Albus' house in three weeks?"

The smile on Draco's face froze. Without a word he stood up and excused himself to go scream his lungs out within the confines of his room.

"What did I do to deserve this? This is all going too fast for me… I don't know if I can take this step yet…" Draco murmured into his pillow, lying face down in the bed as Astoria absentmindedly ran her fingers through his hair. Scorpius did not hear his comments as he was too busy bouncing on the bed like he was still a toddler instead of the twelve year old he now was. Every time the young boy bounced, his white blonde hair flopping in his face, he added another syllable to the now dreaded sentence.

"Please – Dad – Please – Let's – Go – Over! – Please! – I – Love – You!"

"You only say that when you want something," Draco growled. "You have no real love for your father."

"Come on, Dad!" Scorpius howled as he finally flopped onto the king-sized bed, his stomach making a plop on the dark green comforter. "Why are you so stubborn?"

Draco turned to glare at his son.

"I'm stubborn? What about you, boy?"

Astoria sighed and said,

"Alright children, since both of you cannot seem to come to an agreement, and I'm a firm believer in democracy, I shall cast the final vote,"

Both boys whipped their heads to stare at her. Draco's face was incredulous while Scorpius broke into an almost evil grin.

"We shall go to the picnic and have ourselves a merry time."

Scorpius jumped up and gave out a big whoop of joy while Draco groaned in misery. The young boy swooped in, gave his mother a big kiss on the cheek and then ran off to owl his best friends.

"That's not fair," Draco whined. "You always take his side!"

"He's my son, of course I do,"

"I'm your husband!"

"Your point is?"

Draco just heaved another groan.

"You're worse than my mother,"

Astoria giggled.

"I'll take that as a compliment," she said softly, kissing Draco's forehead. "As I remember it, no one got in the way between her and her boy."

A week later Draco was walking down the grassy hills to the Burrow, a place he had relentlessly mocked in his school days but had never actually been to. He was dreading it. Not out of any presumption that the house would be anything like how he had insinuated, but that his presence would surely call to mind those insults. Besides, he really did not feel like getting hexed today.

They were over the last hill and Draco saw what seemed to be a multi-storied house, all mismatched and charmed together. There was a large front and back yard, nothing but green space surrounding it. There was a shed off to the side, and as they approached Draco could see a spattering of fiery red heads. He came to a sudden halt.

Wait a minute… Was the whole Weasley clan invited to this thing?

Dear Merlin, his son was going to watch him die.

Astoria looked at him and smiled encouragingly.

"It'll be okay," she whispered.

"You don't know that. You don't know Weasley's like I do, they hold grudges, especially concerning me,"

"Maybe you don't know them as well as you think," she said. "Maybe you need to stop seeing them through the eyes of a schoolboy, and look at them as if it was the first time."

They got to the rickety gate and before Draco could even register anything, all he heard was,

"SCORPIUS!"

A blur of bushy brown hair zoomed past Draco and Astoria to propel herself on his son. Scorpius and the girl fell with a loud oomph, followed by a bout of laughter from the children, giggles from Astoria, and a dumbfounded look from Draco.

"Rosie, you're going to smother him!" Albus was trotting up to them now, wearing muggle jeans and a gray t-shirt.

"Yeah Rose, why so excited, is he your boyfriend?" Came a drawl from the other side of the fence. Albus turned around to glare at a boy with unruly black hair and hazel eyes. Rose and Scorpius got up, Rose sticking her tongue out at the older boy while Scorpius, Draco couldn't help but notice, blushed.

"Don't be a pig-head, James!" Rose exclaimed. "You know Scorpius and I are just friends!"

James tone was light, but his eyes narrowed into threatening slits.

"That's what they always say,"

James turned to Draco and Astoria. Leaping over the gate in a flourish Draco couldn't help but think was exaggerated and cocky, James Potter gave Astoria a bow and stuck out his hand for Draco to take.

"Mr. Malfoy, I presume," he said, as if he really thought he was twenty years older than his fifteen years of age. "If I'm not mistaken, we're slightly distant relatives. Welcome to the family reunion!"

Draco instantly disliked this boy, but took his hand nonetheless.

"Yes, through marriage or something or other," Draco replied evenly, both letting go of each other's hand after the exchange.

James grinned and turned to his young cousin.

"Hear that Rosie? We're _related_."

Rose just gave a huff, grabbing Scorpius' hand and shoving her cousin aside as she grabbed Albus' wrist in her other free hand.

"Distantly!" she shot back.

Draco eyes James, who continued to stare at the trio. If Draco didn't know any better this boy was trying to… But that was ridiculous.

"What's all the commotion?"

Two fiery redheads were heading up to the group of three now. One was tall and gangly, his head balding and spectacles enlarging his blue eyes. The other was stocky and walked with a lively gait; one of his ears was missing.

Mr. Weasley and George Weasley came to a halt when they discovered whom they had just come to greet. The atmosphere was tense, but James was either oblivious or simply didn't care because he said,

"Grandad! Uncle George! Look what distant relatives came to visit!"

"Well, yes," Mr. Weasley said nervously, glancing from the couple across the fence, his grandson and his own son, who was glaring at Draco with unrestrained loathing. "Um, welcome, Mr, and Mrs. Malfoy."

"Just Draco and Astoria is fine," Astoria said smoothly, taking over with her charm as Draco stood there.

Draco was so unsure of what to do. An old reflex of his was to make a snide remark or insult them, yet he knew things were different now. He was different now, despite the fact that it was still a small, ever-changing difference.

"Well come on inside, all the women of the family are getting lunch ready right now."

"Thank you!" Astoria positively beamed, gliding into the garden, taking up Mr. Weasley's side and said, "Mr. Weasley, you must tell me about these rubber ducks muggles have invented, I find it ever so interesting…"

As he watched Mr. Weasley begin to brighten up and talk animatedly with his wife about the function of a rubber duck, George sidled up to him, leaned in close and said,

"One word from you, Malfoy about my family and I will personally make sure you won't be able to hold food down for 5 months," All of a sudden the man grinned and clapped him on the back. "Got it, ferret?"

Malfoy bristled at the comment but, thinking of his son, took in a huge breath and replied, "Trust me, Weasley, I have no intention of being your newest experiment."

Everything got a little better when they went inside the house. It seemed the women had an instant calming effect on the men that made them relax… or maybe it was fear. Draco honestly couldn't tell.

When he had entered the house he did think to himself it was smaller than what he was used to. Yet at the same time he thought begrudgingly, almost bitterly, that it was filled with a familial warmth his home had utterly lacked growing up. It made him slightly, and he'd never admit it… jealous.

As he moved throughout the house, getting closer to the kitchen his eyes were drawn to a magical clock, with names scrawled across the many hands. He couldn't help notice, with an odd little sting, the name that was firmly placed on "Deceased".

"Oy! Malfoy!"

Draco twisted on his feet to face the Golden trio, in all their glory. Draco could've sworn, for a moment, he saw them as they used to be. Hogwarts robes, faces unmarred by wrinkles, but troubled by thoughts none of them had needed. Yet, they had always managed to laugh. Draco remembered, during his sixth year, hating them for it.

All at once the vision was gone, and he stood looking at two men and a woman in their late thirties, perfectly content with their lives and the wrinkles forming on their faces. Draco couldn't hate them for this though, because he was also happy with his life. For now.

"Honestly, I'm surprised you showed up," Ron commented. "Expected Scorpius, even Astoria, but you… well, I thought you never wanted to step inside my house."

Harry heaved a sigh as Hermione wacked Ron over the head, admonishing him, "Ron! That's no way to act to a guest!"

Ron yelped and rubbed his head, but turned to face her.

"What about when we were guests in his house all those years ago?" he hissed. "We weren't treated so well then, were we? Or have you forgotten?"

Hermione went pale and Harry stepped forward to put on arm on both of their shoulders. Draco was thankful no one else was in the room. The kids were playing in the yard, and everyone else was too busy in the kitchen or setting up tables outside to notice the skeletons being unearthed in the living room.

"Despite what you may think, Weasley," Draco forced out of his mouth, gritting his teeth and trying his best not to act… superior. "I do not think your house is the shanty hole I claimed it was, it's actually quite cozy. And I'm trying my absolute best to push what happened during the War behind me. Not just for me, but for my son. I still don't like you though, if that makes you feel better."

There was a stony silence, as Hermione and Harry gaped at him while Ron puffed out his cheeks. Whether in thought or frustration Draco couldn't tell, until Ron said,

"That does, actually." And with that Ron strolled outside to check on the kids.

"Well, um," Hermione started. "I guess I should say welcome, Malfoy… Oh that sounds rude doesn't it?" she turned to Harry with a puzzled look. "What do we call him now? We can't call him Malfoy in front of the children, sets a bad example…"

Harry snorted. "Only you would care about such things, Hermione," He tweaked her nose and said, "I guess we'll have to call him Draco, at least in front of the kids."

"Excuse me," Draco ground out. "I'm right here you know. Don't I get a say in this?"

Harry let out a small smile.

"No."

The picnic went on rather smoothly, considering that Draco was there at all. Astoria knew all the girls already, and engaged in conversation with such ease that Draco had to stop and admire her. The kids were… well, kids. None of them knew the history behind the two families animosity, not that there was much animosity to begin with. Plus, at the moment, they were being entertained by Teddy Lupin, who was morphing his nose from a pig's, to a duck's to a dragon's fire-breathing snout.

The men were now talking of quidditch and Harry, surprisingly being the most gracious next to Mr. Weasley, asked Draco who he thought would win the next World Cup.

All of the men's eyes were on him while the women, all except for Angelina and Ginny, rolled their eyes.

"Well," Draco said slowly. Why was he feeling so…nervous? Was he nervous? No! Malfoys never get nervous! "Since Britain didn't make it, again, its between Germany and Korea this year, isn't it? To be honest, I hope the Koreans win, the Germans are… well, the Germans."

Ginny, Angelina, and George all let out great hoots of victory. George even jumped up from his seat, ran over to where Draco sat, and clapped him hard on the back.

"Smartest thing you've said, Malfoy!" George exclaimed. "I much rather see the Koreans win than the Germans. The Koreans are tricky flyers, lots of speed!"

"But they always play dirty!" Ron yelled, waving his arms in the air.

"So do the Germans," George said calmly, as if explaining something to a two-year old. "But the Koreans are much better at hiding it. Did you hear that Schweinsteiger just outright pushed Ramirez off his broom when they went against Argentina in the semi-finals? He's lucky all those jinxes missed him, since he's a damn good flyer."

"Which is why they should win," Harry argued.

Draco barked a laugh.

"Hardly a reason for them to win. Now, if you want to talk about good flying, that Jung Youngho is fantastic! Don't know why he's a Beater…"

"Because his arms are bigger than his fat head," Ron drawled.

"You obviously don't know what you're talking about…"

"Actually, Dad," Scorpius chirped. "I think Mr. Weasley is right."

Every red head stared at him.

"Um," Scorpius said. "Mr. Ron Weasley."

Draco gaped as Ron gave an unexpected, triumphant, grin.

"You, my dear fellow, " Ron said. "Should come sit by me, as I give you cake as a reward for your wise words and we try to convince your wayward father how wrong he is."

The whole table laughed and Draco continued to look on, horrified, as his son approached Ron and sat up next to him.

"Earning points, aren't we?" James called, and Rose swiftly punched him in the gut. Her younger brother, Hugo, chuckled.

Astoria and Hermione shared a knowing look. Hermione could swear that tears of joy were welling up in Astoria's eyes.

"There's still a long road ahead," she said. "But I'm so glad we're getting there."

Hermione clasped Astoria's hand tightly in one of her own.

"We certainly are."


	6. Deaf Ears

Scorpius' second year at Hogwarts had come one faster than Draco would have liked to admit. A whirlwind of letters had flown through the house from September to April, full of adolescent adventures that needed constant re-telling. Draco and Astoria would at once smile and cringe at the mishaps their "wayward" son would find himself in.

_Well you see, it wasn't really MY fault that Flint fellow got a broken nose… I wasn't exactly aiming the hex at him, he just got in the way… _

_Albus and I tried out for the quidditch team and we didn't make it this year. I guess they were too intimidated by our natural talent. _

_ Hugo. And. Lily. Need. To. STOP. Following. Us. It's annoying. Plus I think Lily MIGHT have a crush on me, which is in no way shape or form good. She's much too young. _

Draco had snorted at that. "So are you." He had muttered with a smile that November day.

_Albus, Rose and I have decided that detention with Filch is not exactly exciting. He keeps threatening to string us up by our toes. _

_WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME ABOUT THE KITCHENS! IT'S A BLOODY MIRACLE! Rose just thinks Albus, James and I are pigs though. _

These sort of instances, big and small kept happening until Scorpius came home for the Easter holiday. Scorpius had come home at first very excited to see his parents and grandparents (they were much more mellow these days, at least, his mother was). Yet when Scorpius found out that it would be spent at his grandparents manor he had cringed and became the poster child for doom and gloom.

"I don't like that house," Scorpius had whispered to the floor, not daring to look at his father, dragging his right toe in a circular motion. "It's so… cold. It feels like ghosts live there, but you know, the ones you can't see."

Draco could never blame his son for feeling this way. Draco now hated that house and no fond memory that he might have had of it before the war remained in his mind. The screams of the dead and dying still echoed through the corridors, and he never dared go down into that horrid basement.

"I'm sorry, son," Draco had said gently, kneeling in front of his boy and pulling his chin up so their eyes met. "But your grandparents are nearly dragons now, and they get grumpy when they travel."

Scorpius giggled involuntarily and Astoria, looking on, smiled.

Entering Malfoy Manor was like entering a cage again for Draco. He looked around and nothing had changed except the scourging of the blood stains from the floor. Narcissa and Lucius greeted their grandson by spoiling him with chocolate frogs, sugar quills, and cauldron cakes. Astoria turned to her husband and rolled her eyes, but she was grinning all the same. Draco tried to smile but it faltered.

Dinner that evening had started out pleasant enough. The sat at a long oak table, polished to shining perfection. It was not the same table that Draco had watched as Professor Charity Burbage was devoured… His mother and him had burned it.

The air she had dangled from, however, was still there.

Suddenly Lucius turned to young Scorpius as he was devouring a tender piece of beef and asked,

"I've heard, my boy, that you've been… consorting with a Potter and a Weasley,"

Draco and Astoria both visibly stiffened. Narcissa frowned at her husband, possessing more tact. Draco had done his best to keep Scorpius' school life away from his father's knowledge. The pure blood circle of families, especially the older generations, was tight though. Of course Lucius would have heard about it eventually through the grape vine.

"Albus and Rose!" Scorpius said, beaming, completely unaware of the tension in the room.

Lucius began to open his mouth, his old and hardened face tightening, but Draco spoke up.

"Yes, Father, they are his very _best_ friends. Quite _lovely,_ really. Wouldn't you agree Astoria?"

"Yes, quite so. Ever so _delightful_."

The emphasis on their words did not escape the elder Malfoys. Lucius looked like he was about to speak again until Narcissa laid a hand on his arm and shook her head.

Later that night as Astoria and Draco laid in bed, Draco found it impossible to sleep. Astoria breathed softly next to him but Draco could not find rest. He looked around his room, gazing at the old Slytherin and quidditch posters he had thought were so cool as a teenager. The figures on them moved slowly, almost lazily, as the old paper was aging without any proper care.

Then he remembered coming to his room every night with the knowledge that beasts like Fenrir Greyback and his own aunt were downstairs. He would shiver in bed for hours, afraid that any one of them would go crazy and just… kill them all. There were times he would be put in charge of the dungeon that their basement had become downstairs. A week afterwards he would scream into his pillow.

Slowly and carefully he got up from bed. Kissing Astoria on the forehead he hoisted himself away from her and, for some reason, started to walk out of the room and down the hall. Something was pulling him to Scorpius' room. It was a room his father and mother had made just for him, completely new and unused before he was born.

That did not stop the ghosts.

He found Scorpius sniveling into his pillow, his hands white as he clutched the sheets. Draco slowly wandered over to him, sat down beside him and patted his hair.

Scorpius flinched but them recognized the weathered face of his father and propelled himself into his embrace.

"Someone keeps yelling and screaming," he sobbed, burying himself into his father's strong chest. "And another person won't stop… _laughing _at them."

Draco raised his head so his son wouldn't see the tears fill his eyes. A wet trail was left on his cheek.

"They're just nightmares, your imagination," he lied. He was better at lying now. "I'm here, you're safe. Safe and sound."

Scorpius sniffled.

"I feel like a baby. I'm not five anymore!"

"No you're not," Draco said somberly, holding his son close. "And you don't know haw sad that makes me."

He settled his son in bed and laid down beside him. Scorpius, trying to regain his composure, glared at him. Draco gave a watery chuckle. "Indulge your old man once, Soon I won't be able to pick you up anymore either."

Scorpius gave a pathetic glare and let himself fall asleep next to his father. When Scorpius began snoring softly, Draco whispered,

"I'm sorry."

It fell on deaf ears.


	7. All They Have

Scorpius's third year was not going so well. At least, it wasn't going well on Draco's side of things. All too soon his growing boy's voice was cracking, he needed a new set of robes it seemed every two months, and he was copping an attitude so thick and horrendous that Draco wanted to bludgeon him over the head with a nasty goblin.

Scorpius acted completely normal around his friends, but when it came to his parents, especially his father, he would act too cool for them. As if he couldn't be bothered to be around them. He did not hug or kiss his mother goodbye when departing for Hogwarts, and he also informed them he was not coming home for the Christmas holidays.

His letters consisted of one word sentences and his initials. There were no questions of concern or signatures of love. Just sentences proclaiming a big event or a demand.

_I made the quidditch team this year._

_S.M._

No mention of what position, how he felt, or even what the Potter boy got.

_Please send me some chocolate frogs._

_S.M. _

At least there was a please.

_Send me some sugar quills._

_S.M._

Okay…

_Send me a new broomstick. That new StarStruck model is good._

_S.M._

"Fuck this shit…" Draco exclaimed as he tossed the letter in the air, pulled out his wand, and sent a silent, fury laced _Incendio_ at it. It turned into a pile of ashes in front of Astoria's face.

"Now dear, its just a phase, calm down," she reasoned, hovering a cup of calming draught by her side just in case.

"He has been nothing but rude, disrespectful, arrogant..."

"All teenagers go through this,"

"I couldn't have been this bad!"

Astoria raised he eyebrows at him.

"Really darling? Really? Did you, of all people, just say you weren't a complete spoiled toe-rag as a teenager?"

Draco snarled but didn't retort.

"I'll have an absolute laugh about this with Hermione and Ginny later," she said plainly. "Now here darling, drink this before you pop the vein bulging out of the side if your face."

Draco did as he was told and as he sipped the potion Astoria walked off to dispatch her own piece of discipline upon her son.

A week after the Howler was sent, the Malfoys received ten pieces of parchment detailing the very lively events of a third year's life, full of nothing but 'please', 'thank you's', and a vivid description about how lovely his 2 year old _Comet Redux_ was, and that he was just too attached to even think about getting a new one.

"I think I'm even more in love with than before, Astoria."

"Oh I know, darling, I know."

* * *

Scorpius still did not come home for the Christmas holidays and Draco tried to shrug it off as no big deal. Scorpius was getting to that stage where he rather spend the holidays with his friends running around Hogsmeade, skating on the lake, and stuffing their faces at the feast. However, it didn't make him feel less lonely as Christmas began to approach.

Astoria smiled softly at Draco as he looked absently at a recent letter Scorpius had sent about Albus's and his most recent attempt to break the ice leading into the lake, so they could see if the giant squid really hibernated in the winter. Apparently Rose had just stood off to the side, shaking her head, "the wind rustling her curls and the snowflakes dancing across her nose" as Scorpius had so poetically put. Draco was caught between a laugh and a gag as he read it.

Apparently however there plans had been thwarted when Professor McGonagall, the old bat, had come dashing out in the snow. Thus commenced the chase that Hugo and Lily, both fascinated with photography, captured. Rose was up close and at the right hand of the picture shaking her head, crossed between scoffing in dissaproval and laughing with delight. James and Scorpius were merrily sliding around the lake with no skates. At one point Scorpius would fall on his face and James would hurriedly kick him across the ice as McGonagall transfigured her boots into skates and chased after them.

"We should frame this," Draco commented off handedly, as if he didn't really care. Astoria knew better.

"Yes," she agreed. "Those three certainly have a lot of adventures."

Draco could not grasp the feeling that swirled inside of his stomach. A mixture of longing and jealousy.

* * *

Two days before Christmas Eve Astoria apparated home with a crack of excitement. Draco didn't even blink as he stirred his hot chocolate lazily, his hip propped up by the edge of the balcony to their bedroom.

"What are you doing out here in the cold?" she asked, her cheeks flushed from the bitter wind.

"Thinking. Where were you? You were gone before I got up."

"Breakfast with the girls," she said absently. She walked past him in a flurry, opening the glass doors to their bedroom wide open. As she was starting to remove her muffler and hat, she dropped the bomb.

"We've been invited to Christmas dinner at the Weasley house,"

Draco snorted the hot chocolate and the burning liquid simultaneously went up his nose and down his throat. He coughed and spluttered for a good five minutes before yelling, "What?"

"You heard me darling,"

"Yes but, are you crazy? Actually, more importantly, are they crazy?"

"I don't see the problem, you did so well when we saw them last summer,"

"A mere fluke," he spat. "What did you say?"

"Yes, of course,"

Draco flung his one free arm in the air. He stalked into the room, taking out his wand and flicking the doors shut behind him.

"Dear Salazar, what have I done to deserve this?"

"It won't be that bad Draco, besides, its important I go and if you're not with me it just looks strange,"

"Why must you go then?"

Astoria was taking off her outer robe as she said, with a little hitch in her voice, "Luna's been having a tough time since her husband died,"

Draco grimaced.

Luna Scamander, formerly Lovegood, had lost her husband two months ago in an accident. He had been a magizoologist and apparently he had been doing research on the recent mating habits of mermaids and sirens together. Unfortunatly he lost track of the time and the gillyweed he had taken lost its effects while he was deep under a body of water in Scotland. To make things worse, the siren population hadn't been all too willing to give up the man's body either.

Her twin boys, Lorcan and Lysander, were no more than five years old.

"So this is some sort of pity party?"

Astoria threw a fierce glare at her husband.

"You know it's not that,"

"Seems like that to me,"

"She just needs some family right now,"

"You're not her family though."

Astoria's eyes were sad, and Draco hated that, as she slowly, carefully, placed her gloves on the bed.

"To Luna," she said, so gently Draco almost didn't here it. "We've been her family for 21 years."

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry about the wait! And I'm also sorry it's pretty much un-edited. I suck at it, and I'm also a little tired. Work, work, work. All I do these days. Please review!


	8. Painful Apathy

Draco remembered the day he had found out Luna's husband had died. As Astoria fluttered around their room, pulling out different tartan scarfs and wondering which would match her robes best before Christmas dinner, Draco couldn't help but stare out the window at the darkening sky. He dreaded this party, not just because he would be forced into the company of the entire Weasley-Potter clan once again but because the last time he saw Luna Scamander, she had been an outright wreck. He could only pray to Salazar that she would not bring it up.

It was a chilly October day and Draco sat at his great mahogany desk in his study. His quill scratched the surface of the parchment as he meticulously took notes, pausing from time to time to re-read his reports. He would often go over his writing for so long that the ink at the tip of his quill would run dry but Draco liked it that way. He liked to think and then ponder further, letting his hard work show for itself. It was a slow process but one that Draco knew would reflect a great amount of accuracy and care.

Draco was just about to call Astoria or Kassy for a fresh cup of tea when he heard the door open and footsteps make his way towards him.

"Astoria," Draco said, looking up. "I was just about to-" Draco shut up abruptly when he came face to face with Luna "Loony" Lovegood. Well, Draco thought, it was Scamander now wasn't it?

Her wispy, light blonde hair hung loosely down her shoulders and settled on her faded, periwinkle robes. She was wearing mud-encrusted Wellingtons and two identical blond headed toddlers were holding her hands, looking up at Draco with curiosity. Draco looked into Luna's eyes and they were they held that same faraway look in them but somehow he knew there was more to it. Something unmistakable. Something that anyone who had suffered loss would realize.

"Is Astoria here, Draco?" Luna asked.

Draco winced at her informality, but then again when Draco had seen her a few times in passing with his wife, she was always like that.

"Loveg- Scamander," Draco began, her new name heavy on his tongue. "Astoria is around somewhere. How did you get in? Why didn't you go straight to her?"

Luna cocked her head and although she was looking in Draco's direction her eyes never met his.

"I flooed here of course," she said as if Draco was quite silly for even asking her that. Your mansion is so big I just wandered until I found someone."

Draco sighed.

"Alright, Scamander, why are you here? I don't remember Astoria-"

"Rolf is dead," Luna said bluntly. "I'm in quite a compromised state and I was wondering if she could look after Lorcan and Lysander for awhile."

Draco was struck dumb, completely blindsided by the news. His mouth hung open as he stared at Luna then her two children, who seemed un-phased, then back to her. She still wasn't looking at him.

"Sca- um, Luna," Draco said, trying to sound gentle but really just coming off sick, "I'm sorry for your loss."

"You're not really sorry," Luna chimed, "You didn't know him, or us, but thank you for trying."

Draco couldn't speak.

There was a silence for a moment that felt like eternity, Luna staring blankly over Draco's head through his study window. Her eyes never left the grey October sky, red and orange leaves turning brown and falling from their trees. Draco's eyes never left Luna's face.

Draco was jolted out of his stupor when one of the twins scrunched his face up and started to cry. The wailing pierced Draco's body and he looked towards Luna and to her son and back again. Luna didn't seem to notice her son's distress, her grip loosening on his tiny hand. The other son turned his head to stare at his brother as if he had grown a second head.

"For Circe's sake, Luna, do something!" he cried, standing up out of his chair and making his way towards her.

She still didn't look at him, just stared at the grey clouds that blended so seamlessly with the hypothetical eternity that floated above their heads. Draco knew that look, that catatonic state. She was so emotionally compromised that she had become apathetic and it was so much more dangerous than violent emotion. At least with sobbing, screaming, and anger he could predict what happened next. He could tell someone of she was going to be okay. He couldn't now.

As the boy began to cry even louder, his face red and snot running from his nose and over his lips, instinct took hold of Draco. He wrenched the toddler from his mother's grasp and scooped him up into his arms. Shooting a glare at Luna he then turned to the boy and asked, "What's your name, little man, what's your name?"

The boy couldn't answer his sobs were becoming so violent. Draco patted his back to soothe him, rubbing little circles with his fingers and cooing softly into his white blonde hair. For a moment Draco almost thought he was holding Scorpius again, tiny and vulnerable and heartbreakingly his.

"He's Lorcan, " the other twin said from below, looking up at Draco before sticking his thumb in his mouth. "He doesn't like that daddy's gone."

Draco looked from Lysander, to Lorcan, to Luna and suddenly a hot, white fury overtook him. With Lorcan balanced in one arm he used the other to grab hold of Luna's shoulder and shook her hard.

"Listen to me, witch, you better go get your damn act together by tomorrow cause these boys here need their mother to properly explain to them their dad's death. You can't just say he's gone and expect them to cope. So by all the gods, Luna Scamander, deal with your grief then come back here and help bloody well deal with your son's!"

"Draco what's going on- Luna!"

Draco whirled around to see Astoria standing the doorway, dumbstruck. After accessing the situation with a quick scan of her eyes Astoria started to approach Luna but Luna swiftly turned on her heel and apparated out of the house.

Draco walked over to Astoria and tried to hand her Lorcan who couldn't get enough breath to scream now but was dry heaving into Draco's shoulder. The little boy clung to Draco's robes, refusing to let go. Draco let out a sigh and with his eyes communicated with Astoria. She understood. She glided over and swooped down to pick up Lysander. Turning towards her husband she widened her eyes in question.

"Rolf Scamander is dead."

"Draco!"

Draco's head snapped up to meet his wife's gaze. He was sitting on their bed still staring out the window, his knuckles white from gripping the emerald sheets. Astoria held out her hand and smiled down at him.

"Come on, love, it'll be okay."

Draco grabbed her hand and together they managed to hoist Draco off the bed. He was in front of Astoria now, towering over her and yet her eyes always made her so much older, so much better, than him.

"I don't know about okay…"

"Draco, darling, it's Christmas. It's a time of… of understanding."

Draco could not fully believe it himself but his wife's wholehearted belief that he could almost convinced in. Draco leaned in and kissed Astoria, whispering,

"I love you."


End file.
